God Save The Queen
by JazzSquare24
Summary: After a miserable childhood of being controlled by her mother and the power-hungry Sir Snow, Katniss is crowned Queen of England and ready for the freedom she's always wanted. But she also discovers something else she wants - a handsome, blonde, blue-eyed prince named Peeta. Based on the courtship of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Everlark AU.
1. I

My vision is swimming, and my head is aching. I've been stuck in bed with a fever for the past week, feeling utterly miserable. I hate being cooped up inside, especially in the Capitol, a place I loathe. I haven't touched my bow since I took ill, I haven't even left my bedroom! But truly the most miserable part of this fever is that Sir Snow and my mother will not leave me alone.

I'm forced to ignore them as they loom over me, Sir Snow with that ridiculous grin on his face and my mother with her concerned expression. She isn't concerned for my health, though - oh, not at all. One would think that as her only daughter and the heir to the throne of England, my mother would treat me as if I were an angel sent from heaven. Well, she never has and I'm convinced she never will. The concern on her face is only for the fact that I refuse to sign the regency papers, and - to my delight - it's making Sir Snow angry.

"Come now, Katniss," Sir Snow continues, shoving a pen and the regency documents under my nose. "Just sign the silly papers and we'll let you rest."

"No," I say as firmly as I can. The hoarseness in my voice takes away from my resolve, but I scowl at Snow openly, making my annoyance absolutely clear.

He frowns and turns to my mother for reinforcement. She claps her hands together and clears her throat.

"Katniss, my love," she says softly. "We know you are unwell. And we will let you sleep in a moment. We truly think it best that you agree to a regency. You're far too young to run a country, dear, and we believe that this burden is what's making you ill."

I scoff and throw the covers over my head. My mother makes an indignant sound, but Sir Snow practically roars with rage.

"Don't be so disrespectful!" He rips the blankets away from me. I glare at him. "We are your elders and you will do as we say!" He collects the regency papers and his pen, and practically throws them at me. His face is red, highlighted by the whiteness of his hair and beard. "Sign!"

"I will not!" I turn my head and cross my arms. Sir Snow makes a strangled noise. I resist the urge to laugh at him. He stomps out of the room like a child during a tantrum and slams the door behind him. The sound makes my head throb.

I look at my mother, who only casts me a fretful glance before following Snow out of my bedroom. I am alone once more.

_Ten months_, I think to myself, closing my eyes and pressing my hand to my burning forehead. _Only ten months until your 18th birthday. Then you will be eligible to take the throne of England with no strings attached. No more regency papers, or Mother, or that awful Sir Snow._

Snow and Mother have been asking me to agree to a regency for years. I will become the youngest monarch to take the throne in the history of England, and they believe that my reign will be safest in their hands.

The thought of a regency makes my stomach churn. I've been under their control for my entire life. Sir Snow is my mother's personal adviser, but it's plain to see that he manipulates her into doing whatever he wants. In fact, this entire regency ordeal was his idea, as was the Capitol System, named brilliantly after the palace I have grown up in and come to despise.

The Capitol System was created when I was a baby, and has been enforced ever since. It is Mother's and Sir Snow's set of rules to manipulate me, to keep me away from the world and as close to them as possible. I am forbidden to walk down the stairs by myself. I must always be in the company of an adult. My food must be tasted before I eat it. I must sleep in Mother's room. I cannot meet other children, I cannot read popular books, and I certainly cannot make my own choices.

When I was a little girl, I didn't question it. I just followed the rules. But as I grew up, I became more knowledgeable of my future role. I realized why my mother and Sir Snow created the Capitol System. They never explained themselves to me, always avoiding the subject whenever I asked them. But they've made it quite obvious what with constantly shoving contracts under my nose, contracts that would appoint Sir Snow as my secretary and Mother as my regent.

They want the power and wealth that comes with controlling the young and inexperienced Queen. I cannot assent the throne until I turn 18, which will be May of next year. This is why Mother and Sir Snow are trying desperately to get me to agree to a regency. But King Cinna, my uncle, understands what my mother and her adviser are plotting. He opposes the idea of a regency just as much as I do. And he's become very cross with Mother over the years, and he detests Sir Snow. I take comfort in that, because it's nice to know that not everyone is against me. Unfortunately, Uncle Cinna is quite ill, and I pray every night that he lives past my 18th birthday.

But sometimes I doubt that even _I _will live past my 18th birthday as long as Sir Snow is breathing down my neck. When I am Queen, I will have no tolerance for him whatsoever. I can hardly wait for the day when I can dismiss him from the court and never have to see him again. Certainly Mother will object, and she might even keep him as her personal adviser. But that will be her mistake, not mine.

Someone knocks on my door. I raise my head to see Rue come in, with tea and a damp wash cloth. I sigh in relief. Rue is a housemaid, a little younger than me, but she is mature beyond her years. She's worked in the Capitol for as long as I can remember. The first time I ever met her, she was climbing one of the large weeping willows scattered throughout the courtyard. I could hardly believe how high she had gone - almost as high as I could. She was singing to herself, and when she saw me, she froze in fear. I understood why - she thought I would tell Trinket, the head of household at the Capitol, about her antics. But I wasn't interested in getting her in trouble. I liked her immediately. We both loved singing, climbing trees, and being outside. My mother was not very pleased with our friendship, but she didn't object because I stayed out of trouble (for the most part) when I played with Rue. To this day Rue is one of my closest - and only - companions.

"How are you feeling, mum?" she asks me, taking a seat on the stool at my bedside.

"The same as yesterday," I mumble. "Snow was pestering me again. And of course Mother did nothing about it."

Rue smiles sympathetically, and places the cool cloth on my forehead. It feels refreshing against my burning skin.

"The entire hall heard the commotion," she says softly. "If you don't mind me saying, it really is quite awful to hear Sir Snow yelling like that. Puts us all on edge." She helps me sit up so I can drink some tea. It feels like a balm on my aching throat. "You're very brave for facing him every day."

I smirk. "You may call it bravery, but he and Mother call it stubbornness. Either word works for me, although I think stubbornness is more fitting. I do get quite a laugh from seeing Snow's red face."

Rue tuts at me, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Now really, mum, you shouldn't provoke him."

"Why not? He provokes me. Quite shamelessly, too."

"One day you'll be Queen, and you won't even remember his name," Rue points out.

"I certainly hope so," I mutter. Rue flips my pillow to the cool side, and I lay my flaming cheek against it. "I've had enough of Snow and my mother to last a lifetime." I close my eyes and listen to the sound of Rue humming as she cleans up. I recognize her song, and murmur a little harmony. We hum quietly together until I start to feel drowsy. I've almost nodded off when she speaks.

"You could be rid of them much quicker if you were married."

I groan. "Please, Rue, don't make my illness even worse."

She laughs. She knows how I feel about marriage and husbands. Even when I was a little girl, I never dreamed of a big white wedding or the perfect husband. All I dreamed of was spending my days in the woods, running for miles and miles, shooting my bow and arrows, riding horses across vast green fields. I've been to only a handful of balls in my life, mostly at the request of Uncle Cinna, and I've always found them stuffy and boring. The princes even more so. But despite my free spirit, I know that one day I will be forced into a marriage by English law. No one ever seems to let me forget it. But until that day, I have no intention of having any romantic conquests. I need a good taste of freedom before I am locked up again.

"It's not as bad as you believe," Rue says. "Ever heard of a thing called love?"

"Actually, I've had very little experience," I mutter, rolling away from her. The china clinks lightly as she places my tea on my bedside table. Even the smallest sound makes my head feel worse, but I appreciate Rue's efforts in keeping the noise at a minimum.

"Someday you'll meet a man who will sweep you off your feet," she says, tucking in my blankets. "Then you'll see. You'll understand what all the fuss about marriage is about."

"I'll sign Snow's regency documents on that day, too," I say defiantly. Rue sighs and gives me a soft smile. Then she squeezes my hand, curtsies and leaves.

I sit up and drink my tea, reveling in the peaceful emptiness of my bedroom. I know that soon, Trinket will come bustling in with Mother and Sir Snow, chattering about parties and balls and dresses. Snow will pull out regency papers, Mother will look around with that annoyingly concerned expression, and I will be stuck in the middle of it all, utterly miserable. I know they'll be coming in soon - I've never been alone for more than five minutes in my entire life. But for now I savor the silence. I savor being on my own. I close my eyes and think of the woods. The most beautiful, peaceful place in the world.

I'm asleep before anyone can disturb me.


	2. II

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games**

**You guys don't know how long I've wanted to post this fic! I'm a huge history nerd, and i find Queen Victoria's life fascinating, so that's where the inspiration for it comes from. She was an incredible woman, and her relationship with her husband Albert is really interesting and kinda cute :)**

* * *

**Four months later.**

When I wake up and look out my window at the sky, I'm eager to skip breakfast all together and go straight for the woods. It's a sunny morning, with not a cloud in the sky; my favorite kind of weather. The woods are always bright and filled with bird song on sunny days. I fidget impatiently as Madge, one of my servants and my other friend, helps dress me for the day. When I'm in the woods, I tend to wear looser, shorter dresses. My mother thinks they're absolutely hideous. They aren't the prettiest in color or cut, but they're suitable for spending long days in the forest.

Madge brushes out my long, dark hair as I sit at my vanity. She tells me that Mother has requested me for breakfast as soon as I'm dressed, and I groan. Madge smiles sympathetically.

"I'm sure she'll be quick, mum," she says. "Then you'll be off on your way, frolicking through meadows or whatever it is you do all day." She plaits my hair, the usual way I wear it when I spend my time outside, and then we walk out of the room I share with my mother, down the long, narrow hallway, to the staircase.

I link my arm through Madge's and she guides me down the stairs. This is but one of the many rules of the Capitol System I'm forced to put up with. Someone must always escort me up and down the stairs. But Madge and I have made a bit of a game out of it. On the third-to-last step, we jump.

Madge was a bit reluctant to participate, which I understood. It's silly, and not princess-like at all, but it's one of the ways I keep myself sane while living in the insufferable Capitol.

I squeeze Madge's hand and we hop off the third-to-last step. I'm still giggling as I walk into the dining room, where my mother and Sir Snow are already seated.

Mother's eyes widen as she sees my dress. "Katniss, dear, what in the world are you wearing?"

A footman pulls out my chair for me as I take my seat. "I'm spending the day in the woods, Mother," I say as patiently as I can.

"Darling, don't you remember? The Merchant princes are coming to visit today," Mother replies.

I scowl. "Why?"

"Don't speak so rudely," Snow scolds, not looking up from his newspaper. I glare at him.

"Your uncle invited them, not us," Mother says innocently. "He insists you meet them. It is my assumption that he hopes you'll take a liking to one of them."

As much as I adore my uncle, I feel rather betrayed by this. I trust him more than my own mother, and even _she _isn't sending me suitors without my knowledge. "You mean he wants me to marry one of them?"

Mother takes a sip of tea, as if pondering it. "Oh, darling, you know that if I could send them home, I would, for your sake. But it's too late now."

I do believe that she would send the Merchant princes home if she could. But not for my sake. My mother would never be so kind to me. No, she would send them home for entirely selfish reasons. She and Snow don't want me to marry - this I know for a fact. If I married, it would cut me off from them entirely. And they are still clinging to their desperate wish that I will agree to a regency before my birthday.

"Whether you like it or not, darling, you cannot meet the princes in that dress," Mother continues. "Go straight upstairs after you've eaten and change into something suitable."

I frown at her. "I believe I have some time to myself before the princes arrive?"

"Oh, no, we don't know when they'll be here," Mother says. "Imagine what they might think of you if you were off romping in the woods when they arrived."

Snow nods his head in agreement and adds, "You're still so weak from your fever, and you could get hurt so easily outside."

I keep my mouth shut by stuffing it with food. I can feel my mood darkening, and I silently hope that at least one of the Merchant princes is decent, for their sake.

* * *

By the time Madge has finished my hair, the Capitol butler Heavensbee knocks on my door.

"Your Highness, the Merchant princes have arrived."

"Thank you, Heavensbee," I sigh, smoothing out my blue gown. My stomach is twisting, and I feel a bit jittery, but it's not because I'm excited, or even nervous. I can't seem to stop thinking about how I'll have to make conversation with the princes. I've never been good at talking, mostly because I haven't had many friends to talk to.

As he leaves, Madge pulls a few curls out from my bun so that they frame my face. I glance at the mirror to admire my hair again. Madge managed to combine a traditional bun with braids to create a lovely hairstyle.

"You look beautiful," Madge says with a smile. "I won't be surprised when they all fall in love with you."

I scoff. "Why does everyone keep talking about love?" I mutter.

She shakes her head, then takes my hand and escorts me down the stairs. We jump down together, then she gives my hand a squeeze and is gone.

I'm face-to-face with three handsome princes.

"May I present," Heavensbee says, standing beside me, "Her Royal Highness, Katniss."

The princes bow to me, and I bob a curtsy back. They're dressed nicely, in fine jackets and trousers, obviously wealthy. The tallest one, likely the eldest, smiles kindly at me. His hair is a dark gold color, the same as his beard. Next to him stands a boy not quite as tall, but still taller than the third. Most likely the middle child. His hair is a lighter blonde than the older one, like the color of wheat. He quirks his lips into a smile that's almost mischievous. I return it.

The third boy, the shortest of the trio, looks at me shyly. His hair is the lightest blonde of the boys. It's a beautiful color - darker than butter, but lighter than honey. His whiskers have the same lovely shade, unnoticeable in the direct light. His eyes are the clearest blue I've ever seen.

"May I present," Heavensbee continues. "Their Serene Highnesses, Prince Dominik, Prince Felix, and Prince Peeta."

They each smile at me kindly, but it's Peeta's smile that makes my cheeks warm. I clasp my hands behind my back in an effort to look composed.

"I'm pleased to meet you," I say smoothly. "How was your journey?"

"Long," says Dominik with a laugh. "But not bad."

"Good." I wonder if perhaps I should ask them about their home, or how long it took to come here. But certainly Mother will handle those subjects better than I could. "My mother is anxious to meet you. Follow me, please." I guide them into the drawing room, nodding at Heavensbee as he opens the door for us. When she sees the princes, Mother rises from her sofa, energetic and beaming. Sir Snow stands in a corner, quietly observing. My mother tends to become a different person in the company of others. She's cheerful, sincere, and never stops smiling.

It drives me mad.

Mother goes on and on about how long the journey must have been from their Merchant palace to the Capitol, but I'm hardly paying attention to what she's saying. My eyes keep going back to Peeta. I watch him as he looks around the drawing room, smiles politely at my mother, laughs at something his brothers said. I guess he's probably around my age. I've never met someone my age before, other than a few of the servants. All three princes are quite attractive, but Peeta, I decide, is the most handsome.

"Katniss, dear, shall we take these gentlemen on a tour of our gardens?" Mother asks.

I turn my head to her, eyes wide. "Oh, yes," I say. "The gardens are beautiful."

"Why don't you and Peeta go first," she suggests with a knowing glance between the two of us. "We'll be right behind you."

I can't help but glower at my mother. Of course she would leave me alone with a boy after she's insisted on an adult being with me all my life. I suddenly wonder if perhaps she was also in on this plan with Uncle Cinna, to put me together with a random prince and marry me off. But before anyone can catch it, I exchange my scowl for a smile, and look to Peeta.

"Very well," I say. "Follow me."

* * *

It's a bit awkward as we walk to the gardens, because I know my mother and his brothers are about twenty steps behind us. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Peeta glancing at me, as if he expects me to say something. This is making me a little unnerved, so I blurt, "Do you like to spend time outdoors?"

He gives me a bright smile, as if he were thrilled I asked him, and nods. "Oh, yes," he says. "I would spend all day outside if I could."

"I agree. There's nothing quite as refreshing as the sun on one's skin," I say. We follow the little stone path that bends and twists around the large Capitol gardens. I notice that my mother and Peeta's brothers are no longer following us, but admiring some other part of the grounds. I can't help but feel a little lighter.

We walk past fountains and statues and every kind of flower patch imaginable without another word. Peeta doesn't seem to mind, though. I glance at him every now and then, and he looks so riveted by the gardens, as if he'd never seen anything like it. I hop up on the stone wall and walk the length of it, something that I used to do as a child all the time. Peeta seems amused.

"Don't fall off," he remarks.

I smirk. "I never do."

"Well, I'll stay close just in case," he replies with a shy smile. My stomach twists again, but not in the same way as earlier. I skip the rest of way, and leap down. Peeta laughs at my antics. I can't help but feel a bit pleased with myself.

"What is your favorite outdoor activity?" he asks me as we walk past a forest of rose bushes.

"Archery," I say.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at me, blue eyes wide. "You shoot a bow and arrow?"

I laugh lightly. "Yes. Is that surprising?"

"A little," Peeta admits. I'm about to scowl at him and tell him off, but then his eyes light up. "But I think that's remarkable of you! Do you shoot targets?"

For a moment, I wonder if he's making fun of me. It wouldn't be the first time that a prince dismissed my sport as silliness. But Peeta seems genuinely curious, so I nod. "Sometimes in the fields, but often I take my bow in the woods and practice there. It provides a more interesting range."

He seems impressed by me, which makes me feel quite proud. "Do you take lessons?"

"When I was a little girl. I don't need them much anymore," I say as nonchalantly as I can.

Peeta grins. "You must be very good at it, then."

I laugh lightly and nod my head. "What about you?" I ask. "What are your favorite outdoor activities?"

"When we were little, my brothers and I used to sail boats in the pond at our home," he replies. "We used to have wrestling matches, too."

"Wrestling?" I ask, amused.

He shrugs, a pink blush tinting his cheeks. "We don't do that as much anymore. Nowadays I like to paint and sketch outside."

"Oh, so you're an artist?"

He shrugs again. "I have a few sketchbooks and things. It's just a hobby, really." He seems bashful. I find it surprisingly endearing.

"I bet you're an excellent artist," I say sincerely. "Did you bring any materials here?"

He shakes his head. "No. But I must say, I would love to paint your gardens." He takes an orange lily between his fingers, rubbing the petals gently.

"They are quite beautiful," I remark. "The gardens are one of the very few things I like about the Capitol."

Peeta looks at me with a curious expression, but I don't elaborate, and he doesn't pry. I'm grateful for it.

The more we talk, the more I realize how silly I was about fretting over conversation. Even when I can't think of anything more to say, Peeta quite easily finds things for us to talk about. He talks a lot. But surprisingly, I don't find it irritating. He has the loveliest accent - unlike my full, proper English one, his has an underlying German lull to it. And he really is so handsome. When the sunlight is directly on his face, it illuminates his eyelashes, which are so so impossibly thick I can't believe they don't tangle together when he blinks.

The afternoon is one of the nicest I've had in a long time - neither Mother or Sir Snow make an appearance once. Even dinner is pleasant. It isn't until after dinner, sitting in the parlor together, when I feel Snow's eyes boring into the back of my neck as I play chess with Peeta.

I speak quietly as I make my next move. "Sometimes I feel like I myself am a chess piece. Always under someone else's control, always waiting for the right move."

Peeta looks thoughtful as he stares at the game board. "Certainly you can assert yourself and make your own decisions," he murmurs, looking up at me with questioning eyes as he moves his piece to the next square.

"Easier said than done," I reply, considering my options. "I'm not a queen yet. And I grow more and more anxious every day."

"For what?"

"My birthday." I tip one of his pieces over, replacing it with my own.

He doesn't seem phased. "When is your birthday?"

"In May."

He wins one of my pieces, and tucks it to the side. "Bit more waiting to do, then."

"Unfortunately. I always feel like there's someone out to get me." I glance at Sir Snow, who is pretending to be interested in Mother's conversation. I know he is straining his ears to hear what I'm saying.

Peeta follows my gaze. "I know about...what he wants. The regency," he says after a moment.

This doesn't surprise me. "I'm sure all of England does as well."

"You've come very far, Katniss," Peeta says, looking into my eyes as he moves a piece on the game board. "Don't lose your nerve."

"I won't," I say firmly. "I will be Queen."

He smiles at me. "An excellent one," he agrees.

My cheeks warm. "Thank you," I whisper, assessing the board. "It's nice to know that I'm not entirely alone in this game."

Peeta looks at me for a long time but I don't say anything else except, "Check mate."

* * *

The carriage arrives to bring the Merchant princes home. I say goodbye to Dominik and Felix, but linger when I come to Peeta.

He smiles and raises my hand to kiss it. "I had a wonderful time with you, Katniss."

I look away, embarrassed by the burning question I have for him. "I did too," I agree. Then I hesitate. "Peeta?"

"Yes?"

"Will you come back for a visit soon?" I feel foolish for asking, foolish for wanting to see him again. But Peeta smiles, and his whole handsome face lights up.

"I'd be happy to, Katniss," he says breathlessly. "I'll write to you?"

I nod my head eagerly, feeling even more foolish by how _happy _that makes me. "I look forward to it."

He kisses my hand again, and then he's gone. As we watch the carriage ride off into the darkness, I can still feel the press of his lips on my skin.

Before Mother or Snow can say anything to spoil my mood, I retire for the night and practically drag Madge upstairs.

"Why are you so eager for bed?" she asks, bemused.

"I had to get away from _them_," I reply, sitting at my vanity. Madge begins unpinning my hair as I indulge myself by thinking about Peeta's voice.

"What are you dreaming about?" she whispers, looking at me curiously.

"Nothing," I say nonchalantly.

"A prince?" she guesses.

I smile softly and say nothing in reply.

* * *

**If you've ever seen the movie The Young Victoria, you'll recognize the scene where Victoria and Albert play chess and discuss regencies. I really appreciate the reviews, you're all so nice :) more to come soon**


	3. III

A week later, as I'm coming in from a day in the woods, I take advantage of my few precious moments alone and ring for Heavensbee in the parlor.

"A guest will be coming for a visit tomorrow," I say quickly. "And I don't want Mother to know."

Heavensbee frowns at me. "May I ask why Your Highness does not want Her Ladyship informed?"

I give a little sigh of exasperation. "Because she will spoil everything," I say shortly.

He almost chuckles at that. "May I ask who this guest is?"

"Prince Peeta," I reply after a moment's hesitation. Heavensbee's face is unreadable, but I can tell he's amused. He's certainly noticed that all of my letters have been addressed to and from Peeta, as of late. It would certainly be easy to make assumptions as to why I am inviting a prince to the Capitol so soon after our first meeting. And of course Madge and Rue will be eager to tell everyone downstairs that I've fallen in love. But that is _not _the reason. And Mother _would _spoil everything if she knew. She would drag Snow into it as well, and embarrass me to no end.

"And what shall I tell Her Ladyship if she asks for your whereabouts?"

"Tell her I've gone to the woods," I say with a wave of my hand. "It won't be a lie. That's where I intend to be."

He considers this for a moment, clearly weighing the consequences. Then nods his head. "Very well, Your Highness. I will not say a word to Her Ladyship by your command."

"Thank you, Heavensbee," I say, feeling more relieved than I expected.

I'm jittery the next morning, hiding from my mother and Snow, until finally Peeta arrives for luncheon. Heavensbee brings him to greet me, a knowing look in his eyes, and I thank him sincerely before he goes.

Peeta smiles brilliantly at me, and his cheer is so infectious that I can't help but return an equally eager smile. He looks handsome: he's wearing plain brown trousers and boots, a white waistcoat and a brown vest. He has a large basket tucked under his arm, which he holds out to me shyly.

"What's this?" I ask curiously, lifting the blanket to see a mountainous pile of breads, biscuits, crumpets, and every other kind of baked treat in the world.

"Luncheon," he teases. "I baked these for you."

"You baked all of this?" I ask, my eyes wide with surprise. He nods, a blush spreading on his cheeks. "I didn't know you could bake."

"My father taught us - my brothers and I - when we were children."

I've never heard of nobility with such a skill. I pluck a large biscuit and take a bite. It's flaky and buttery, with just the right hint of sweetness. It's unexpectedly delicious - my surprise must show on my face, because Peeta laughs lightly.

"It is a bit unorthodox of a prince to bake," he says. "But I enjoy it. Even if it is not as impressive as swordsmanship or sailing."

I shake my head, devouring more of the biscuit. "This is far more impressive," I say earnestly.

His pale cheeks turn red. He looks away from me, but his lips are quirked into a small smile. He seems so genuinely flattered by my praise that I wonder if perhaps this prince really does think that he pales in comparison to other nobility. This tugs at my heart in a strange way.

"What do you do with all of your baked goods?" I ask, eager for another biscuit.

"Share them with our servants," Peeta says simply. "Of course, most of them know how to bake as well. But it's tradition at the Merchant palace."

"How endearing," I say, smiling at him. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

He beams. "It was my pleasure."

I place the basket on a nearby table and grab his hand. Usually I would never do this to anyone, but I'm feeling bold. For the first time in my life a friend has come to visit me. There are no servants around, no one watching us. If my forwardness alarms Peeta, he doesn't show it.

"I want to show you something," I say in a hushed voice. "But we must go quickly, before anyone sees us."

He quirks a blonde brow at me, but I'm already dragging him out the door. He laughs as we race to the stables, where I show him our horses, including my favorite horse since childhood, Mockingjay.

"What an interesting name," Peeta remarks as he strokes the mare's black nose affectionately. She nuzzles his hand, making him laugh.

"It's a bit embarrassing," I admit. "I would make up all kinds of silly words when I was a little girl. I liked the sound of 'mockingjay' so much, I gave the word to my favorite horse."

"It does have a nice ring to it," Peeta agrees with a smile. I feel my cheeks warming and look away quickly.

"Mother almost didn't let me learn how to ride," I say, absently plaiting Mockingjay's black mane as I speak. "She's not too keen on horses herself, and she was terribly frightened that I would get hurt. She all but forbid me from being near horses. But I had lessons in secret." With nothing else to say, I twirl Mockingjay's hair around my finger, suddenly even more embarrassed by my confession. I've never felt self-conscious about my acts of defiance against my mother before, even when I was scolded for them. But suddenly I fear that Peeta will think badly of me, that he'll think I'm a disrespectful person.

He looks at me curiously, as if he doesn't understand. "Your mother...she's quite restrictive?"

I scoff and roll my eyes. "Restrictive is an understatement."

Peeta frowns. "Why?"

"Because she wants the power of being Queen," I admit. "And Sir Snow pushes her." My words hang in the air between us. I look at Peeta, wishing I could take them back. It's no secret that my family is complicated, but I've never told anyone this much about my life at the Capitol ever. Except for Uncle Cinna.

Peeta holds my gaze for a moment, silenced by my words. Then he whispers, "I know about the system."

I blink at him. How in the world does this Merchant prince know about the Capitol system? Yes, they've done a poor job of being discreet about it, but it isn't as though Mother and Snow gossip about their plans at parties. The only people who know about the system are those who live in the Capitol...and Uncle Cinna.

I frown, my anger sparking and turning my face hot. The morning of Peeta's arrival, Mother mentioned that Uncle Cinna had arranged for him to visit. How he hoped I would 'take a liking' to one of the Merchant princes, potentially marry one of them. I had thought nothing of it after that day, because truthfully I was a bit smitten with Peeta. But now I can see quite clearly that this whole ordeal is a _plan. _A plan to get me away from the throne.

Beneath my anger is deep betrayal. I've trusted my uncle so whole-heartedly my entire life - my only ally in this twisted world of politics - and even _he _is plotting against me! Clearly he has told Prince Peeta everything about my life so that he could persuade me to marry him, accept the regency, and forget all about being Queen.

I glare at Peeta coldly. "And I suppose my uncle told you all about my sad little life," I say sharply.

He falters, his brows crinkling. "I meant no offense, Katniss," he says softly. "It's true, the King did tell my family about your circumstances. But His Majesty did so for your best interest. He wants you to have allies."

"I can make my own allies," I snap.

"I'm certain you can," Peeta agrees gently. "But you should know that you already have them in my family. Including myself." He smiles at me then, a smile that's both kind and shy, and it makes me even angrier. I feel foolish to have fallen to his charms so easily.

"So now what?" I ask, unable to hold my tongue. "Are you going to get on one knee and propose? Or are you going to start rattling off the benefits of a regency?"

Peeta's blinks rapidly at me, his eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

I scoff at him. "You're not the first to try, and I'm certain you won't be the last." He opens his mouth, about to ask me what I mean, but I spin on my heel and march out of the stables. When I hear him pursuing me, I run as fast as I can into the woods. I'll easily lose him in there, and then he'll be forced to leave and hopefully never come back.

The woods are lovely today. Dark and green and quiet, except for a few bird songs. And the faint crashing sound of heavy feet on the ground.

I whirl around to see the bloody Merchant prince chasing after me, tripping over every root he comes upon and calling my name like a madman. It's almost laughable, but I don't want to lose my lead on him - I'm much faster than he is. I dart through the branches and raise my arms to shimmy up a tree, when suddenly Peeta practically falls on me.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, clutching my shoulders as I lose my balance. "For heaven's sake, just stay still a moment!"

"You're the one who knocked me over!" I retort, pushing him away and brushing off my dress. "You came barreling in like a mad man! Why did you follow me?"

He's panting heavily, his pale cheeks flushed, but he looks at me with a smile. "You didn't want me to?" he asks.

I turn around, ready to begin climbing the tree, but Peeta grabs me by the shoulders again, spinning me around. "I'm just teasing, Katniss!" he insists. "I followed you because you were clearly upset by what I said and I must clarify what I meant."

"I'm not in the mood for company, Your Highness," I say shortly, swiping a loose lock of hair from my face.

"Katniss," Peeta says with exasperation, his blue eyes wide. "Will you please listen to what I have to say? I did not mean to offend you. I'm not here to trick you. I want to support you. I want to be your friend."

"Only because Uncle Cinna spoke of me as if I were a prize," I grumble.

He shakes his head. "The King only praises you," he insists. "Don't be angry with His Majesty. He keeps your best intentions in mind."

"Then why would he send you here to meet me? Why is he so adamant about marriage?" I demand. "I can't understand why there would be any other motivation."

Peeta blushes and steps away from me. "You can't?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head. "No! My uncle knows how I feel about marriage. I don't want it! Not right now! Not ever if I had my way! But nothing ever goes my way in my life." I realize that I've once again revealed something personal to Peeta. Why can't I keep my mouth closed when I'm around him? Why can't I f_or once_ behave properly? I groan in frustration. "The only reasonable explanation as to why Uncle Cinna would send you to meet me is so you might persuade me into marriage or a regency or some other bloody thing I despise."

Peeta looks alarmed, but somehow I don't believe it's due to my cursing. "Katniss," he says quietly, his cheeks bright red. "I...I did not come to meet you by His Majesty's request. He approved of it, of course, but...I suggested it," he confesses.

"You?" I blink at him. "Why?"

He looks at anywhere but my face. "I wanted to meet you," he says in a low voice. "I had seen you at a few balls and parties in the Capitol several years ago. You were never with any other children, and I desperately wanted to speak to you. I was very shy then." Peeta smiles bashfully. My heart feels strange. "I thought back then that you were lovely…and now that I've met you I know it's true."

I frown. "Why?" I ask again. "People are not interested in me because I'm lovely, as you say. That's not the way it is."

Peeta shakes his head. "Quite the contrary, Katniss," he says. "People are fascinated by you." He looks at me wistfully as he says, "You have no idea the effect you have."

His words confuse me. A voice in my head nags at me not to believe him, to be wary of him, because he makes it so easy to reveal so much. But a louder voice in my chest wants him to explain, wants to know him, wants him to know me, wants to reveal everything about myself to him.

Perhaps I am the biggest fool in history. Perhaps this is all a trap, a big trick, leading up to the ruination of my political career. But for some reason that I can't understand, I believe Peeta. As I look at him, I see no cunning or mischief in his face. Just a sweet, genuine smile and red cheeks that are so endearing my heart flutters.

I realize that I owe him an apology. I flush with embarrassment, recalling my tantrum at the stables. Will I ever be able to behave like an adult?

"You must think I'm ridiculous," I say quietly, fiddling with my braid.

Peeta shakes his head. "No. But you are a remarkable athlete."

I smile and ask if he'll stay for tea.

* * *

The next time Peeta comes to visit, he not only brings a basket full of baked goods, but his art supplies as well. A servant sets up his easel in the gardens, and we sit on a bench and I observe as he works. It's mesmerizing to watch him draw, the way his fingers grip a pencil, the way he moves his whole hand when he creates lines and circles. He shows me his sketch book, and I study it while he paints the Capitol.

"These are remarkable," I say as I admire a drawing of two little dogs chasing a chicken. The details are superb - I can make out the whiskers on the dogs' noses, the fur on their bodies, the fluff of the chicken's feathers. It's done entirely in pencil, yet it looks perfect enough to be framed. "You're an excellent artist."

Peeta smiles at me. "Thank you." He pauses in his painting and turns to me. "Would you like to try?"

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at art," I say.

"I'll help you," he insists, turning his sketch book to a blank page and placing it in my lap. He puts his pencil in my hand. "We'll start with something simple," he says. "Try drawing this flower." He cups a purple orchid in his hand.

I raise my pencil to the paper and tentatively create the shape of the flower. I move slowly, because I want to get the orchid exactly right. I can feel Peeta's eyes on my paper, and his scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, so I curve my free hand around my drawing to cover it. He chuckles but doesn't say anything about it. I continue working until I've finished. At first it looks decent, but then I glance up at the live one to compare. I scowl.

"It looks nothing like it," I grumble.

"I'm certain it's not as bad as you think," he says kindly.

"Yes it is."

"May I see?" he asks. I hesitate, but eventually I reveal the paper to him, watching his face carefully. Peeta does not laugh at my crude, misshapen drawing, which is kind of him because it really is quite laughable. "Just as I suspected," he says. "Not as bad as you thought. You've got potential."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, spare me your pity. It's just a silly drawing. I'm not going to cry about it."

He laughs. "I was not expecting you to," he says. "And I don't pity you, Katniss. You really do have potential. Practice is what you need."

"I'm tired of drawing," I announce. "We've been sitting for too long. Shall we take a walk?" I jump to my feet. "Perhaps I could teach you archery?"

Peeta blinks. "Archery?"

"Yes! You've shown me your skill, now I'll show you mine. Come on." I flip his sketch book closed and tug him to his feet. The servant packs Peeta's art supplies as I guide him to my recreation field, where I practice my shooting. I've had to be very discreet when it comes to purchasing bows and arrows. My mother knows about my passion for archery, but of course she doesn't approve. If she had her way, I would sit inside all day posing for portraits. But I've never had the tolerance for sitting still.

Peeta's clearly nervous about holding the bow. I had expected as much. My skill is very unorthodox and truthfully rather dangerous. I've never actually shot at living things - only targets and trees - but sometimes I pretend that I'm the greatest huntress that ever lived. I pretend that I'm the Queen of the Forest, and when I go to battle I never miss.

At least one part of my fantasy is true for me - I am quite a good shot. Peeta seems to think so too, after I easily strike the target in its center and then send another arrow slicing through the first. It's a trick that took me years to master - of course I'm going to flaunt it.

"Katniss," Peeta breathes. "You're better than I imagined!"

I smile. "Thank you. Would you like to try?"

He eyes my bow. "Perhaps I'll observe you a bit longer," he decides. So I explain to him my techniques while demonstrating. He watches me, and seems genuinely interested. By the time his visit comes to an end, and he bids me goodbye, I can hardly believe that I had tried to dislike him.

"Will you write to me?" he asks after he kisses my hand.

"Of course," I reply.

"Will you practice your drawing?"

"Perhaps."

He laughs and then he is gone, and in his place is my mother, who looks at me angrily as she watches Peeta's carriage drive away. I try to flee before she can ask me questions, but when I turn there is Sir Snow, his strange eyes boring into me, and I know that I cannot escape them. It seems that I never will.

* * *

**This chapter is so overdue, I'm sorry. Updates won't be this far apart, I promise. School and stuff, ya know? Please read and review, I really appreciate it :)**


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